


Better Than Misery

by MaJackles



Series: Summer of Song 2015 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4827209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaJackles/pseuds/MaJackles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life... a slightly alternate universe Dean who has tattoos... otherwise all is normal</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Misery

**Author's Note:**

> Anger and agony are better than misery... This one is inspired by the song "Pain" by Three Days Grace. You can listen to it here: https://youtu.be/nBo4M49v3p0

"What do you think about Baby?" Dean came bursting into the motel room.

 

"Baby?" Sam looked up from his laptop, startled.

 

"The car... the Impala?"

 

"I know what you're referring to, Dean. What do you mean what do I think about it?"

 

"Shouldn't I have Baby?"

 

"Are you talking tattoos again?"

 

"Yeah! I can't believe I don't have Baby!"

 

"Dean, you're drunk. Not so sure deciding on your next tattoo while you're drunk is the best idea."

 

"I'm not drunk, Sammy. If I were drunk, I'd be passed out."

 

Sam sighed. It was like this two times every year. Like clockwork.

 

"So? Baby?"

 

"Where would you put it? You already have two full sleeves."

 

"My back, bro! Nice big canvas to work on!" Dean flopped down on his bed, crossing his arms behind his head and crossing his legs out in front of him.

 

"Have you ever thought of just talking about your feelings? I know you miss-"

 

"Shut it, Sam! I don't need to talk about anything! I don't miss anyone! I'm fine!"

 

"Fine. Whatever. I'm going to bed."

 

The next night they picked up where they had left off. Sam knew better than to even look for a job until Dean was finished "coping".

 

"C'mon Sammy. You might as well just come with me instead of following and lurking in the shadows, fretting like an old mother hen."

 

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with." Sam grabbed his jacket and stalked past Dean and out to the car. Dean grinned and followed him out.

 

Dean picked the worst looking bar he could find. A biker bar by the looks of it. Sam sat at the corner table and watched as his brother wound himself up toward an explosion. Every year, the same. Dean tossed back the whiskey like it was water. The more he drank, the louder and more belligerent he became. Sam saw that the imminent moment was close at hand and got up to pay their tab. He had barely gotten the tip into the jar when it started.

 

"You're cheating!"

 

"The hell I am! It's pool! You think I'm hiding a fucking cue ball up my sleeve?! You've been right there watching me play, you douchebag!"

 

"Oh, that's it Prettyboy."

 

"Prettyboy? You don't want to do this, man." Dean took off his jacket and handed it blindly to Sam, whom he just knew would be there. The biker got a look at Dean's tattoos and started re-thinking his prettyboy comment, but when Dean turned back with a sarcastic smirk on his face, his decision was made.

 

"Dean. Don't kill anyone okay?" Sam pleaded, hoping to dissuade the biker from following through with the fight.

 

"No worries, Sammy. Just a trip to the hospital this time. I swear."

 

Barely before the words were out of his mouth the biker came charging at him. Dean caught him and they both flew onto a small table. Unlike on tv, decent tables don't crumble when someone hits them, and Sam could hear the rush of air as Dean got the wind knocked out of him. The two rolled off the edge of the table to the floor and the table tipped over and crashed to the floor beside them.

 

The biker landed on top and immediately started pummeling Dean's face. "Not so pretty now, are ya? Ya punk!"

 

Dean eventually got his breath back and bucked the biker off. They got up and started circling each other, other patrons backing up and cheering on their favorites. Apparently fights were common in here as the bartender made no attempt to move the fight outside.

 

"I always like to let my opponent land a few hits. Makes them feel good about themselves." Dean taunted.

 

"You got quite a mouth on you, boy."

 

"Aww. You dropped the pretty. I'm hurt."

 

The biker again moved in, but Dean used his momentum against him and simply stepped out of the way, shoving the man in the back as he went by. The biker stumbled to keep from falling and Dean followed right behind him. When he got his footing and turned around, Dean was right there with a wicked right hook. The biker may be bigger than Dean, but Dean had been fighting and brawling for most of his life.

 

The biker was stunned by the punch and Dean followed it with several more to his face and mid section. One of Dean's blows to the stomach had the man doubled over. Dean grabbed him by the shoulders of his leather biker vest and tugged the man further over, bringing his knee up into his face. The sound of his breaking nose was sickening.

 

Dean was a flurry of movement and by the time he took a breather, Sam wasn't even sure if the biker had gotten anymore hits in. They were both bloodied but the biker's face was a mess with the broken nose. The biker seemed to have had enough and collapsed back onto a bar stool, holding a hand to his face.

 

"Who just beat the shit out of you, douchewad?"

 

"Dean.."

 

"No Sammy. I wanna hear him say it!" Dean was yelling and full of the boldness of alcohol. Not that he ever needed the liquid encouragement. "Who beat the shit out of you?!" He yelled in the face of the biker.

 

Sam looked around nervously at the crowd but, thankfully, none of them looked like they were about to take up arms in the man's defense.

 

"You did." The biker finally said.

 

Dean grabbed the man by his vest and shoved him back against the bar. "What's my name? What did you call me?"

 

The biker stammered. "P-p-prettyboy?"

 

"Damn straight! You let some prettyboy beat the shit out of you!" Dean laughed, let the man go, and grabbed his jacket from Sam. "Barkeep! I want a whole bottle, if you please!" The bartender got him a bottle of whiskey. Dean grabbed it, slapped some cash on the bar and walked out.

 

Sam followed behind. "Are you done?"

 

"Hell no! Time to get Baby!"

 

"What it's time for are stitches, Dean."

 

"Pft. You can stitch me up at the tattoo parlor, ya sissy." Dean got into the car and didn't wait for Sam to argue.

 

They drove around town until Dean found what he was looking for. He strolled in, carrying his whiskey and said hello to the woman within, named Skye. She had bleached blond hair shaved almost to the skin on the sides and longer on top. The longer bit, dyed blue and purple, was pulled back into a topknot of sorts. She sported her own tattoos and piercings. He told her what he wanted and she went outside to look at the car with him.

 

"She's beautiful. Yeah this should be no problem. You're the last one of the night. Let's get you set up."

 

Sam was surprised that she didn't seem concerned over Dean's bloodied appearance. Dean pulled off his jacket and shirt and Sam noticed Skye's look of appreciation. What was it with Dean and women anyway? She had Dean sit backwards on a high backed chair. Sam sat in front and cleaned and stitched his brother while Skye worked on his back.

 

Dean tossed back the whiskey, winced every now and then, and flirted mercilessly with Skye. Sam was grateful the evening's activities were almost done.

 

"Dean, you know I miss Dad too."

 

"Really Sam? You're gonna do this here?"

 

"You're a captive audience. It's the perfect time. Why do you do this to yourself year after year?"

 

"Do what? Go out and have a good time?"

 

"You know what I'm talking about. You drink until you numb the memories. Then you pick a fight with some poor soul and beat them into a hospital visit..."

 

"Wait. The other guy looked worse?" Skye interjected.

 

"Oh yeah, sweetheart. The other guy always looks worse." Dean answered with a smirk of satisfaction.

 

"Anyway. You get yourself drunk, get into a fight, and then top off the evening with yet another tattoo."

 

"Well I'm hoping my evening will be topped off with something more than the ink." He glanced over his shoulder at Skye and winked.

 

"Quit moving, Mr. Charm." She chuckled.

 

"Dean. Why won't you just talk about it. Get it off your chest. You can't continue to carry this around with you year after year."

 

"Sammy, there's nothing to say. Anyway... anger and agony are better than misery."


End file.
